Supposing, however, for a moment, that women were, in some future
revolution of time, to become, what I sincerely wish them to be,
even love would acquire more serious dignity, and be purified in
its own fires; and virtue giving true delicacy to their
affections, they would turn with disgust from a rake. Reasoning
then, as well as feeling, the only province of woman, at present,
they might easily guard against exteriour graces, and quickly
learn to despise the sensibility that had been excited and
hackneyed in the ways of women, whose trade was vice; and
allurements, wanton airs. They would recollect that the flame,
one must use appropriated expressions, which they wished to light
up, had been exhausted by lust, and that the sated appetite,
losing all relish for pure and simple pleasures, could only be
roused by licentious arts or variety. What satisfaction could a
woman of delicacy promise herself in a union with such a man,
when the very artlessness of her affection might appear insipid?
Thus does Dryden describe the
situation,